Perfect
by SydneyLouWho
Summary: She was a dead girl walking. tw: eating disorders and suicide


_Note: _This is in the Wintergirls fandom, but it is an OC and all of these characters are mine. It was merely inspired by Wintergirls.

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><p>Taylor was empty.<p>

She hadn't eaten in days. Her brain was fuzzy and her eyes were barely able to stay open. The bottle of water in her pale hands shook as she lifted it to her thin lips and let the water trickle down her throat. Somehow, this made her feel even more hollow.

She was the specter in the room, watching with dead eyes the movement in and out of the busy cafeteria. She didn't say a word to anyone.

She saw her friends around her talking in an animated way, gossiping, but the words seemed to shatter just as they reached her ears.

_Did anybody care?_

They had to see the dark circles under her eyes from staying awake, hunger eating her up. They had to see her face, sallow and thin. Were they too afraid of the answer to ask the question?

For months, her goal was beauty. To be the skinniest.

Daniel, as he left her, had said: "I can't date an ugly, fat girl. It's not good for my reputation." She had cried herself to sleep that night.

She blamed Daniel, in all of his shallowness, for her problems, for her insecurities. She blamed her _friends_, who were all pretty and skinny, and got any guys they wanted. She blamed her _parents_, and all of their rants about how she should try hard to be the best. She blamed society for its phony image of thin, pretty girls who became successful, rich, and happy. The pictures that she added to her scrapbook of things to strive for. The ones that made her no longer hunger for food, but for perfection.

_Because the girls in the pictures don't have problems, right?_ Boys don't call them ugly and fat. They never had to deal with mean girls. Their lives are fantastic and magical, kisses of adoring boys fresh on their ruby red lips.

Taylor held onto the sliver of hope that she could be like them, pushing away the voice of reason that nagged her constantly. If she couldn't hold onto that hope, she'd fall into the bottomless pit of insanity that she'd been dangling above since she'd heard those words.

_Ugly. Fat. Worthless. Stupid. Slut._ Their voices echoed in her hollow body and repeated like a broken record.

Taylor was fragile. If someone had pushed her even the tiniest bit, she'd have toppled over and shattered into a million tiny porcelain pieces, her makeup-painted doll face staring up at the ceiling with the same empty eyes. She was a dead girl walking.

She'd found the perfect system.

She'd eat everything that the kitchen had, then she'd release it into the swirling waters that kept her sane.

_Binge. Purge. Binge. Purge. _Every day. Six months.

This month, though, was the ultimate test.

March 6th. She hadn't eaten in six days. The hunger gnawed at her insides, threatening to eat her internal organs. She wouldn't give in to those primitive needs, though. She was too strong.

Nobody had noticed. None of the girls had complimented her thin figure or her newly dyed hair. Why hadn't they noticed?

She convinced herself that they were jealous. They were jealous of her beauty. She was too perfect. The thought made a small smile grace her lips.

"Why didn't you notice?" she finally asked, causing the entire lunch table to be shocked into silence at the sound of that small voice that they hadn't heard in ages. The voice that was once a strong singing voice, now was more of a weak whisper.

Finally, a girl spoke up. "What do you mean?" Her name was Jenna Browning. She was Taylor's _best friend_.

"Why haven't you said anything about my new skinny figure or my hair? Have you not noticed how beautiful I've become? Haven't you noticed?" Her eyes were brimming with tears of desperation and a longing for approval.

Jenna looked at her feet. "Tay, we've all been scared to say anything. This is unhealthy. You were beautiful before."

Wrong answer. That was not the response Taylor had in mind. She didn't want to hear that she'd nearly starved herself for nothing.

She slammed her books down and ran out of the cafeteria, as fast as her fragile little legs could carry her without support. She got to her mother's Jeep, which she had driven to school that day since her car had broken down, and from a Walmart bag in the back, pulled out a kitchen knife that her mother had just bought. She shoved it into her school bag.

She went into the bathroom, and making sure nobody else was there, pulled out the knife. She paused for a moment, waiting. _Jenna would save her, right?_ Jenna wouldn't let her slip away. But nobody came, and she held the knife to her pale throat. A pool of dark liquid spilled to the ground and pain shot through her body. She opened her eyes. The mirror in front of her finally showed her true colors. The blood red of her heart. The lifeless gray of her soul. The swan feather white of her skin. She was a shadow of her former self, so full of life and carefree. She fell to the floor, lifeless.

Death was nothing like it is in movies. There was no beautiful montage of her perfect life. There was no sad music playing. Death is cold, dark, and utterly alone. She lay, merely a corpse, in a pool of her own blood and tears.

But at least she died _perfect._

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><p><em>AN: Well, that was probably the strangest, most twisted thing I've ever written. Anyway, reviews are nice. CC is better._


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